


if you think it long and mad

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Love Confessions, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s always been very aware of his own physical attractiveness, and he’s not above using it to his advantage, not when there are more important things at stake here. A little bit of moral ambiguity on his part isn’t going to hurt anyone. </p><p>“This is important. We need you to do this,” he says, voice gentle and soft. He strokes his thumb over the line of Grantaire’s cheekbones. “<i>I</i> need you to do this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you think it long and mad

**Author's Note:**

> For Sarah [merry-taire](http://merry-taire.tumblr.com/), who is not at all cool and probably a total loser. <3

“I can’t,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras tries to tell himself that he isn’t disappointed, because he’s already expected that this would happen, that Grantaire will say no to him, will tell him that it’s too dangerous, that he’s not smart or subtle enough to pull something like that off. 

Most people say no, and Enjolras will back off, except that he cannot back off now, because Grantaire is their last hope of getting an inside source, and Enjolras _needs_ him on this. 

He does the only thing he can think to do — he reaches out and cups Grantaire’s cheek in his hand. 

He’s always been very aware of his own physical attractiveness, and he’s known from the moment he laid eyes on Grantaire, from the moment Grantaire’s eyes go a little wider when his gaze lands on Enjolras, that Grantaire is attracted to him. He’s not above using it to his advantage, not when there are more important things at stake here. A little bit of moral ambiguity on his part isn’t going to hurt anyone. 

“This is important. We need you to do this,” he says, voice gentle and soft. He strokes his thumb over the line of Grantaire’s cheekbones. “ _I_ need you to do this.”

Grantaire’s breathing quickens. He leans into Enjolras’ palm. “Okay,” he says, a bare whisper.

Enjolras smiles. “Good boy,” he says, and then leans in to kiss Grantaire. 

—

He doesn’t have the time to be gentle or slow with Grantaire tonight. He tries, usually, because Grantaire seems to enjoy that, but tonight he’s got other things, more important things, so the moment he closes the door behind him, he makes his way to Grantaire and shuts him up with a bruising kiss, pushing Grantaire’s jacket out of the way, unbuttoning his shirt in quick succession. 

He undresses them quickly, efficiently, and preps Grantaire the same way, with two fingers and just enough lube to ease the way, and asks, “Do you have anything for me?”

“New accountant,” Grantaire gasps, and then groans Enjolras’ name when Enjolras rewards him by curling his fingers just so. 

“And?” Enjolras asks, because that isn’t anything, in itself. He needs more information. 

Grantaire’s breathing is laboured, he tries for words but all that comes out from him are broken noises. 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras prompts, and slows the thrust of his fingers, draws his fingers out of Grantaire entirely, ignoring Grantaire’s whine of dismay. “What’s wrong with the new accountant?”

“Shifty,” Grantaire manages to get out, and Enjolras kisses his temple and slides his fingers back into Grantaire. “Doesn’t look the part,” Grantaire gasps out. Then, “Please, _please_.” 

It’s enough for now, Enjolras supposes, pulling away from Grantaire to roll a condom on before he starts thrusting into him. Grantaire’s words break off into moans, and a thought comes to Enjolras. 

“I need a name, R,” he says, even as he reaches around Grantaire to wrap a hand around his cock, and starts to jerk him off slowly, but it is evidently not the best move, because Grantaire isn’t saying anything that isn’t _please, Enjolras, please_ , so Enjolras stills, and mouths over Grantaire’s shoulder, bites down hard. “I need a name,” he repeats.

“Montparnasse,” Grantaire says quickly, eager to please, eager for Enjolras to start moving again. 

Enjolras rewards him by fucking him harder, and closing his hand in a tight grip around his cock. He doesn’t stop this time until they’ve both come.

He brushes Grantaire’s hair out of his face gently as Grantaire’s breathing starts to calm, and says, as he usually does, “Go to sleep, R, I’ll stay until you do.” 

Grantaire’s fingers circle his wrist. “I have a copy of Montparnasse’s personnel file in my bag. I thought it would make your work easier.” At Enjolras’ frown, he says, “I know I’m not supposed to do anything except observe, but I was careful about it, I promise.” 

Enjolras leans down and kisses Grantaire’s brow gently. “You did well,” he says, because Grantaire is right in saying that having Montparnasse’s file will indeed make their investigation easier. “You did very well,” he corrects himself, and returns Grantaire’s tired smile. 

He traces circles on Grantaire’s arm gently, and waits for him to fall asleep.

—

“Something is going on,” Grantaire says, when Enjolras comes into the room. “The Thénardiers hired a new Chief of Security.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow and shrugs off his coat. “Oh?”

“His name is Babet,” Grantaire tells him. “I tried to look for his file, like with Montparnasse, but there isn’t one. Montparnasse’s file isn’t there anymore too.”

Enjolras frowns. “That is odd.” He wonders if he should tell Grantaire what they found out about Montparnasse, and dismisses the thought almost immediately. Grantaire isn’t part of the team, he doesn’t need to know. 

“I have a photo instead?” Grantaire passes him his phone. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but I just- I don’t know. I wanted to help.”

Enjolras looks up from the grainy photo of Babet on Grantaire’s phone. 

Grantaire looks as tired as he sounds, and Enjolras can’t have Grantaire getting tired of helping, can’t have him decide that he’d rather spare himself the agony of having to look over his shoulder all the time because he’s afraid that he’ll get caught. He sets Grantaire’s phone down on the table by the bed and reaches out for Grantaire instead, nimble fingers unbuttoning Grantaire’s fly, drawing his half-hard cock out.

“I’m going to suck you off, okay?” he asks, going to his knees before Grantaire. He kisses the tip of Grantaire’s cock. “Relax, let go, I have you.”

Grantaire exhales his name. 

—

Grantaire is normally already in the hotel room when Enjolras gets there; Enjolras has never had to wait for him before, but he comes into an empty room this time.

He checks his watch — Grantaire is late.

He’s almost given up on Grantaire showing up when the door opens later, fifteen minutes after the designated time, and Grantaire comes in, dressed not in his usual office attire, but in a black hoodie and shades. 

“Are you being followed?” Enjolras asks sharply. 

Grantaire shakes his head at that. “That’s not- No. I wanted to call tonight off, but I didn’t know how to contact you, because I don’t have your number and-”

He’s rambling, so Enjolras frowns and crosses the room to where Grantaire is still standing by the door, ready to leave, and grips him by the shoulders. 

Grantaire lets out a wince. 

Enjolras’ frown deepens, and he pushes the hood off Grantaire’s head and looks at Grantaire, really looks, and then slides Grantaire’s shades off his face. He draws in a sharp breath when he sees the nasty looking bruise around Grantaire’s eye. 

“What happened?” Enjolras asks, already assuming the worst. He’s going to need somewhere to hide Grantaire, away from the Thénardiers and the worst of Patron-Minette. He could have Valjean and Lamarque pull some strings, send Grantaire overseas, far away from danger. 

Grantaire looks away from Enjolras, and doesn’t say anything.

“You need to talk to me, R. If someone from Patron-Minette did this, if they know you’re looking into them, if you’re in danger, you need to _tell me_.”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I just…had too much to drink, is all. I started a fight in a bar. It’s unrelated.”

Enjolras sighs, worry superseded by annoyance now. “You need to be more careful,” he tells Grantaire, because Grantaire should know this by now. His drinking is a liability, and it’s not what Enjolras needs from him. Enjolras needs him to be sharp, be vigilant, to remain the asset Enjolras needs him to be. “Do you have anything for me?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you not to waste your time coming here today but-”

Enjolras nods. He still feels an undercurrent of annoyance at Grantaire’s drinking habits, but this is an issue that needs to be taken care of. He pats on the side of the bed, signalling Grantaire to sit. 

Grantaire does. 

“Phone,” Enjolras says and Grantaire passes his phone to Enjolras. “It was a bad call not giving you my number. Now you have it.”

Grantaire nods when he takes his phone back, and stares at it for a long moment. “Okay,” he says. Then, “I’ll go now.”

“Stay,” Enjolras says. “It’ll look odd if you leave now. We’ve always stayed.” He leans in closer to Grantaire, because Grantaire still looks jittery, still looks like he’s about to run, and Enjolras can’t have Grantaire being afraid of him, can’t have Grantaire feeling anything but trust towards him. He brushes his fingers over the bruise around Grantaire’s eye. “Does it hurt?”

Grantaire swallows. “A little,” he says quietly. 

“Close your eyes.” Grantaire does, and Enjolras leans in closer. He kisses Grantaire’s eyelid softly. Trails his lips down to the soft skin under his eye, brushes kisses over his cheeks, his jaw, and then, when Grantaire whimpers for him, Enjolras kisses him finally on the lips.

He fucks Grantaire softly, slowly, mindful of the bruises on his body, coaxes a gentle orgasm from him, and then kisses him gently on the neck. 

“Go to sleep, R,” he says, like he always does. Grantaire’s body loosens at the words, and he closes his eyes and curls closer into the warmth of Enjolras’ body. “I’ll stay until you do.” 

—

Grantaire’s hands are gentle on him, his touch exploratory, skating on the edge of being teasing, but not overly so, not painfully so. Grantaire is not cruel like that. 

“Lamarque says that Patron-Minette has been unusually quiet these few weeks,” Enjolras says, unused to the silence between them. He arches up into the touch of Grantaire’s lips when Grantaire kisses the skin just above his navel. “He fears that they suspect that they’re being watched.”

Grantaire hums. “They’re right to be vigilant.”

“You need to be careful,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire looks right up at him, as though startled that Enjolras would care. “I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Grantaire swallows. “Right,” he says, voice rough. His smile is a little forced when he tries. “I’m no use to you or the cause dead.” 

Enjolras hums his assent, and then- “Do you think I care so little for you?”

“Am I wrong to think so?” Grantaire shoots back, and then jerks his gaze away from Enjolras. “Don’t answer that,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I want to know.”

Enjolras sits up. “You _are_ wrong to think so,” he tells Grantaire. He catches Grantaire’s chin in his hand and tilts his head so that his gaze is back on Enjolras again. “Do you think I sleep with all my sources?” 

“You would if they’d ask it of you, I’d wager,” Grantaire says, and it’s not bitterness in his voice, not quite. It sounds more like resignation, and although Grantaire isn’t wrong, Enjolras is unwilling to leave it at that. 

“But they don’t ask it of me,” he tells Grantaire, “and I don’t sleep with them. You are special to me.” He’s perhaps a little surprised to find that he means it.

Grantaire ducks his head, brushes his lips over Enjolras’ stomach, and presses Enjolras back down onto the bed with a palm on his chest.

“Thank you,” he mouths against Enjolras’ skin, and Enjolras graciously doesn’t ask what he’s thanking him for.

He says instead, “We need a code word, an extraction signal that you can text to me if you ever feel like you’re in immediate danger.”

Grantaire ponders over that, fingers trailing over Enjolras’ side gently. “ _Montreuil_ ,” he decides. 

Enjolras makes a noise of question. “Why _Montreuil_?” he asks. 

“Why not?” Grantaire says, and it’s evident that he doesn’t want to tell Enjolras, so Enjolras doesn’t press for an explanation, just keeps quiet and lets Grantaire map his body out with his hands. 

It is awhile later before Grantaire speaks again, jolting Enjolras out of the nice calm Grantaire’s touches have put him into. He says, “I’m afraid.”

Enjolras catches Grantaire’s hand in his, tangles their fingers together, and squeezes tightly once. 

“You’re right to be,” he tells Grantaire, tugging him up, letting Grantaire press his face to the crook of his neck, feels him breathe in deeply. “Patron-Minette is dangerous, and with the Thénardier’s money in their pocket, they could be unstoppable. That is why we have to take them out of the game.”

“I don’t want to be afraid,” Grantaire says softly.

“It’s okay that you are, as long as you also trust that I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Enjolras tells him. “Do you trust me?”

Grantaire nods. There is no hesitance. 

Enjolras smiles and kisses the side of Grantaire’s face. “Go to sleep, R. I’ll stay until you do.” 

He leaves the moment Grantaire’s breathing evens out. 

—

His phone pings with a text, but he’s on the verge of a breakthrough into the Thénardier’s coded bookkeeping now, and he doesn’t have the time to make the trip cross the room to get his phone. 

If it’s important, he reasons to himself, then they will text again, or call. In fact, if it is all that important, they would’ve called in the first place.

His phone doesn’t make another sound.

It isn’t until hours later that he’s interrupted from his work.

“Enjolras,” Valjean says, bursting into the room. “Your source. Grantaire.”

Enjolras’ head shoots up at that, because Valjean isn’t supposed to know his name, no-one is supposed to know Grantaire’s name for security reasons. Enjolras covers his tracks well, and he always takes care of his sources. “How do you know his name?”

The look in Valjean’s eyes is grave. 

Enjolras’ stomach churns, and he already knows what the next words coming out of Valjean’s mouth are going to be, but he steels himself and hopes against odds. 

It doesn’t work.

Valjean says, “They’ve caught him.” 

Enjolras makes his way quickly to his phone. There is one unread text message from Grantaire on it.

‘ _MONTREUIL_ ’ the text screams. 

Enjolras hears it in Grantaire’s voice.

—

Grantaire is bruised and bloodied by the time Enjolras gets to him. 

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Grantaire says, and he’s crying, Enjolras can see the tears running down his face, and it’s the last thing he expects to hear from Grantaire, but it’s what Grantaire says. “I promise I didn’t tell them anything, please get me out of here. _Please_.” 

Enjolras makes quick work of untying the binds on Grantaire’s hands and legs. Bahorel is supposed to be creating a small distraction, nothing big enough to warrant someone staying behind with Grantaire, and he’s not going to be able to hold them back for long. It’s not going to be long before someone comes back to check in on Grantaire, and Enjolras needs to get Grantaire out before then. 

Grantaire doesn’t stop speaking. 

“I knew you would come,” he says when Enjolras helps him up, and the blind _trust_ Grantaire has in Enjolras is choking him. He’s done nothing to earn it, and he doesn’t understand why or how it could be so freely given to him. “I knew all I had to do was to hold out for as long as I could. I knew you would come.”

“Stay with me, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, when Grantaire’s words start slurring together. “We’re almost out of here. Stay with me.”

“I’m not the one who always leaves,” Grantaire murmurs, but he listens to Enjolras, the way he always does.

—

Grantaire wakes up gasping for air. 

“Grantaire!” Enjolras says, and goes to him from where he’s with Combeferre. “You’re okay.”

“I can’t breathe,” Grantaire manages between gasps.

Enjolras cups Grantaire’s face in his hands, and says firmly, “Yes, you can. Breathe with me.” He sucks in a deep breath, smiles encouragingly when Grantaire follows, and lets it out. “In, out. In, out. Easy now, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Grantaire’s eyes are wide, the look in them frantic. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a hospital,” Combeferre says from behind Enjolras. 

Grantaire shakes his head. “I want to go home,” he says, voice cracking in the middle, and then he’s listing forwards into Enjolras’ arms. “I want to go home, please, Enjolras. I just want to go home.”

“He can’t stay here,” Combeferre says, a reminder that Enjolras doesn’t exactly need. They’d been in the middle of that discussion right before Grantaire woke up. “It’s a bloody miracle he’s gone untraced here for two days.”

“He’s under an assumed name-” Enjolras tries to reason, but Combeferre cuts him off. 

“Patron-Minette is looking, and the moment they start to think to fine-comb through hospitals, they’re going to find him.”

“Please,” Grantaire is still saying wetly into his shirt, and that’s not an option either. That’s not even close to being an option. “Please let me go home.”

Enjolras shakes his head. “You _can’t_. You can’t go home, not for a long while, not until this is over. It’s the first place they’re going to think to look for you. They’ll have eyes on the place until they find you. Going home isn’t going to solve anything right now,” he says harshly, because he needs to think, and he needs quiet to think. Grantaire goes quiet, pulling away from Enjolras the way Enjolras expected him to. 

Combeferre clears his throat, and when Enjolras turns to look at him, Combeferre just arches his eyebrows at Enjolras and dips his head in Grantaire’s direction. 

Grantaire is staring at him, eyes wide and scared, when Enjolras turns back. 

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says, gentler, because Grantaire is in shock, and he’s above everything, still an asset. They still need to know if he’s heard of anything, gotten any names that they don’t already have. He takes Grantaire’s hand in his, runs his fingers over Grantaire’s bruised knuckles. “Everything is going to go back to the way it was once we take down the Thénardiers and Patron-Minette, I promise.”

Grantaire nods, and there it is again, that unconditional trust he has in Enjolras. 

When he speaks again, it’s a whispered, “I have nowhere to go.”

“That’s not true,” Enjolras says.

He takes Grantaire home with him. 

—

“I almost died in Montreuil, once,” Grantaire tells him, when he’s changing the dressing for Grantaire’s shoulder wound. “I never wanted to go back there again.”

Enjolras frowns. “So why did you?”

“It was always there when I closed my eyes,” Grantaire tells him. His twist of his smile is sardonic. “And now it isn’t.”

He has new nightmares now, Enjolras knows. He’s heard Grantaire’s recount of it, gone through it enough times to know that it’s real, that Grantaire hasn’t been compromised by Patron-Minette, and he’s sorry for what happened to Grantaire, he really is, but Grantaire doesn’t want an apology from him.

He doesn’t know what Grantaire wants from him.

—

Grantaire wakes up screaming. 

“You’re okay,” Enjolras says, and wraps his arms around Grantaire, trying to sooth his fears. “You’re okay now, I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire gasps out wetly. “Enjolras, I-”

“Shh,” Enjolras says, not entirely sure if he wants to hear what Grantaire has to say. The guilt of letting this happen to Grantaire has been nagging at him, but it’s worth it; Enjolras is going to make sure that it’s worth it, and he cannot afford to second-guess himself right now. He kisses Grantaire’s hairline gently instead, and says, “Go to sleep, R.”

Grantaire makes a wounded noise at that, and clutches Enjolras tighter. “Don’t leave, please,” he tells Enjolras, pleads with him. “Stay with me, just this once, stay and don’t leave. Please, Enjolras, please.”

Enjolras listens.

—

They develop a routine.

Enjolras works and then he comes home, and he lies with Grantaire, and they don’t do more than that, because Grantaire is so tired all the time now that he can hardly bare to close his eyes without Enjolras by him, and Enjolras can give him that, he owes him as much. So he lies with Grantaire and listens to his breathing even out, and sometimes he drifts off into slumber too, but more often than not, he just ends up watching Grantaire as he sleep, soothing out the pinches between his eyes if he has to. 

On the few occasions that Grantaire jolts up in bed, sweating heavily and so, so afraid, Enjolras is always just by him, shushing him and murmuring soothing words at him until he slowly falls back to sleep again, and Enjolras will be left with the sickening loop of _this is your fault_ in his head. Grantaire told him it was a bad idea in the beginning, told him that it was too dangerous, and Enjolras should’ve listened to him instead of taking advantage of Grantaire’s attraction for him, and he doesn’t get it, doesn’t get why Grantaire would do this, would think that having Enjolras in his bed would be a good enough reason to ignore the way his instincts were telling him to walk away from it all. He doesn’t understand how someone so scared could do something so brave for _so little_.

He stays there with Grantaire in his arms, stares at the ceiling, and waits for an answer to come to him.

—

Grantaire wakes up in the morning, rises with the sun, and Enjolras hasn’t slept a wink at all. 

He’s spent the whole night thinking about it, and there’s really only one reason Enjolras can think of why Grantaire is doing this, and if he’s right, he wants to hear it from Grantaire. 

“You could’ve said no right from the start, and at any point in between,” Enjolras says softly, and knows that Grantaire hears him when he feels Grantaire tense up in his arms. He doesn’t make a move to leave Enjolras’ embrace, though, and Enjolras takes it as his cue to continue speaking. “You didn’t have to do any of this, but you did, and I’d like to know why.”

Grantaire doesn’t say anything or the longest time, and for a moment, Enjolras thinks that maybe he’ll never say it.

Then Grantaire sucks in a deep breath. He breathes the words out on an exhale.

Enjolras nods. “I thought so,” he says, and tightens his hold on Grantaire, tugs him closer. He presses a kiss to Grantaire’s hair. 

Grantaire goes with it, presses his face to the crook of Enjolras’ neck and his palm to Enjolras’ chest, right above his heart. 

“Tell me again,” Enjolras says.

“I love you,” Grantaire repeats dutifully.

He doesn’t complain when Enjolras doesn’t say it back.

—

Enjolras had meant well, had meant to show Grantaire that he isn’t trying to coop Grantaire up in his apartment, had meant to show Grantaire that he was willing to compromise by taking him to the Thai restaurant down the street from his apartment, but he’d forgotten that the reason why he only ever gets food delivered from the restaurant is that it’s always jam-packed with people. 

When someone pushes past Grantaire roughly to get into the restaurant, Grantaire lets out a shaky breath and tugs at Enjolras’ shirtsleeve. “Enjolras,” he breathes out, and Enjolras tangles their fingers together, squeezes tightly. “Enjolras, can we go home, please?” 

Enjolras swallows, instinctively protective of Grantaire in a way that he’s starting to get used to, and tugs Grantaire close to his side. He thinks of how Grantaire had called his apartment _home_ , thinks about how Grantaire hasn’t been back to his own place in so long that he’s associating Enjolras’ place with the concept of _home_ , thinks about how that’s all his fault, and says into Grantaire’s hair, because he can’t give Grantaire what Grantaire wants, but he can make it better for him, just a little, “Yeah, R, we’ll go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here on Tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/), come say hi! :D


End file.
